


A Question of When

by allimarie_xf



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arrow (TV 2012) Season 5, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Lots and lots of sexual tension, Post-5x22, Sexual Tension, honestly there was no need for them to take so long to get back together, olicity reconciliation, so here ya go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 01:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allimarie_xf/pseuds/allimarie_xf
Summary: If she knew one thing for certain, it was this: Oliver Queen was done waiting.~~post-5x22 canon divergence fluff!~~





	A Question of When

**Author's Note:**

> takes place after this scene: https://youtu.be/rtIx09enXRg because it was Oliver's birthday, dammit, and it's what he deserved!

If she knew one thing for certain, it was this: Oliver Queen was done waiting.

It started almost immediately after their conversation about getting back together, about _ taking things one step at a time, _ though if she were being honest, his gaze, hot with intent, had been making her sweat all night. 

She assumed it had all been leading up to that talk, and when, with a sweet smile and soft, earnest eyes, he’d confessed, “I’d like that very much,” Felicity believed things would cool down and go back to normal.

She was very, very wrong about that.

At first it was simply that, instead of quietly basking in the warm feeling of contentment for the rest of the night as Felicity was happy to do, Oliver continued to watch her. Intensely. She flitted from party guest to party guest, but his darkened gaze was inescapable, stalking her across the room and leaving her feeling like he was a hunter and she was his prey. It made her fluttery and nervous, wondering what he would do to her if he caught her. Wondering whether she planned to let him. 

Eventually she sought respite by ducking into the kitchen to check on the hors d’oeuvres in the oven, but the brief reprieve ended when she felt him step up close behind her. She shuddered involuntarily as he pinned her against the counter with one arm on either side of her body, and whispered against her ear, “Can I help you with that?” 

She could feel the solidity of Oliver’s body from just the heat that was trapped between them, and his warm breath tickled her ear, but he was technically not touching her and wow, if he was just being friendly, then the immediate tug of hot, liquid arousal she felt between her legs was wildly inappropriate. “Um, no,” she answered neutrally, if a little breathlessly, dammit, “I can manage mini quiches, but thanks.” 

Truthfully, she wasn’t completely sure how to interpret his offer, but her uncertainty faded rapidly as he lingered over her shoulder, gathering her hair at the nape of her neck. Lowering his lips to her exposed ear, he rumbled, “It’s just that the kitchen has always been a little too hot for you to handle.”

Ignoring the sudden drop in her stomach and the overwhelming urge to press back against his chest, she summoned her indignation instead because honestly, her exaggerated reputation as being a complete kitchen disaster was getting a little annoying and besides, focusing on her irritation rather than the non-platonic thoughts that were on the verge of becoming non-platonic actions was by far the safer route. 

Except by the time she spun around to protest, loudly, Oliver was already walking away, leaving her gaping at his perfectly calculated, snugly tailored retreat. The smug jerk. He didn’t even have the decency to turn around and show her the smirk that she could perfectly envision on his lips. She shivered with a heated prickling sensation down her spine that had nothing to do with her proximity to the oven. 

It was completely unfair that he could still do this to her; that without even having looked at him, she couldn’t shake the impression of exactly how well his broad shoulders filled out his suit, couldn’t help but imagine how easily she could loosen his tie and undo the constrictive buttons at his neck. 

No. Those were dangerous thoughts that had no place in her carefully-considered plan to ease back into a relationship with Oliver. Even though he had dressed _ really _ well for their supposed date, paying obvious attention to details she knew he knew she would appreciate, such as just the _ right amount _ of scruff. 

Stop.

Felicity took a deep breath, marshaling her composure, and returned to the party with the plate of appetizers, determined to focus on her duties as hostess. After all, Oliver was just...Oliver. The same Oliver he’d been the entire past year, when she had been perfectly capable of functioning in his presence. The same stubborn, hot-headed Oliver who had refused to bring new recruits onto the team, until of course he had. Stoic, taciturn Oliver...except he had never let their break up, or her careful distance, stop him from listening, from opening up to her. The Oliver who had given her space when she asked for it, but whose steady support had always been within her reach. The Oliver who had waited for her.

The Oliver whose eyes were now focused on her with a simmering intensity as she entered the room. She felt his gaze as if it had weight, weight that was currently pressing against her, causing her to forget how to balance in her high heels, and she felt herself wobble as the world began to tilt. 

She was picturing flying mini-quiches when Oliver’s arms closed around her, steadying her, and she instinctively reached out one hand to brace against his chest. Still so very very solid after all this time. 

“Careful,” he murmured, all gentle amusement. 

Felicity spared him a wary glance, not sure whether to treat him as the cause or the cure for her current predicament, when clearly he was both. “Thanks,” she replied, gnawing on her lip and deciding to withhold judgment on the matter for the time being. But she didn’t shake him off when he continued to cradle her, ushering her toward the other guests, and if she leaned a little into his embrace, who could blame her?

Ten minutes later, she had settled into a conversation with Thea and John, which came with the benefit of allowing her heart to finally settle back into a normal pace. "I'm just saying, in Action, Comedies, basically almost all genres, the guy can basically look like a cave troll and he'll still have hot women falling all over him. But Google forbid a female protagonist has a hot guy swooning over her - then it's chick-flick this, Mary Sue that!"

"Look, I'm not saying I'm disagreeing with you,” Dig shrugged, “because something tells me that would be a very stupid thing to do, but in action movies, those guys are really ripped. Not exactly your average-looking dudes."

Felicity jabbed a warning finger toward him. "First off, John, look at your arms. I don't even know what point I'm trying to make here, except that your muscles aren’t just for show because you put them to use fighting actual bad guys, so whatever. My point is, do you really think those muscly guys in the movies are a female fantasy? Uh-uh. No way. That is 100%, testosterone-fueled male fantasy right there,” she continued, her voice rising as she reached her coup de grâce. “Guys _ think _ that's what women want, but really all that muscle is just showing off for _ each other. _ Ask any woman and they'll tell you it's the same as with other things: it's not the size of the muscles that matters, it's how you use them that counts."

Thea laughed and John muttered something in reply, but Felicity didn’t hear him because just then Oliver’s hand landed gently on her shoulder as he appeared behind her. “So what's the female fantasy, then?” he asked, adding in a teasing tone, “in your opinion, as a woman?” 

The question would be innocent if it were anyone else but Oliver asking it, but of course it was Oliver asking it, and on top of that he was still touching her. “Um let’s see,” she began, making a show of tapping her finger to her lips, “a partner who listens to us, respects us, treats us as equals? And if he has a nice smile and eyes, well...this is a fantasy scenario, so let’s go with that.” She silently congratulated herself on giving a generic response, or so she thought until Thea’s expressive eyes skittering away from her gaze made her replay the words in her head.

Behind her, Oliver leaned down to whisper suggestively in her ear, “And all this time I thought you liked the muscles.” His voice was slightly rough, but she didn’t dwell on it because just then his free hand closed around her hip, pulling her close so that her backside brushed what was unmistakably his growing erection. The slight pressure sent sparks of arousal prickling all over her skin, need tightening her nipples and pulsing between her legs as she was reminded of his exact size, of how perfect his cock felt when it was pressed against her, when it was pressed inside her. Only the fact that they were not alone prevented her from grinding back against him. 

She glanced up and caught Thea’s speculative look, and she would have blushed redder if it were possible. Thankfully, Thea turned to John, taking up the argument and granting Felicity a small reprieve. “I agree with Felicity. I mean, I’ve never really thought of it before, but just the fact that I can think of 10 funky-looking leading men off the top of my head, but not a single female lead that isn’t classically beautiful kind of proves her point.”

She continued speaking, but Felicity didn’t hear a word of it because Oliver’s hand slid from her shoulder to her waist, to the bare skin above her hip exposed by the unusual cut of her dress. 

And just like that, Oliver was touching her. Not an hour before, they had shyly agreed that they both wanted to try a relationship again, and now she had felt his erection and his fingers were beginning to tease along the edge of her dress, gently working their way further and further under the fabric to caress the skin underneath. And the worst part was, she didn’t stop him. She didn’t _ want _to stop him. Even while it was all Felicity could do to keep standing upright, she leaned into the slow, deliberate glide of his fingertips without even realizing it. Meanwhile, Oliver stood behind her casually, confidently, joining in on the conversation going on around them as if he weren’t currently engaged in setting her nerve-endings on fire. His touch was intimate, warm, and familiar, as if caressing her was his right, as if this was something they still did. As if the long months of separation, of distance, had never happened. And it felt so good that for a minute she let herself forget all the reasons why she needed to take this slow.

After what might have been a minute or an hour for all that Felicity’s concentration was hyper-focused on Oliver’s hands, Thea excused herself, and John slipped away almost immediately afterward, leaving Oliver and Felicity standing together alone, his body practically plastered against hers in a way that was suddenly conspicuous. Felicity held her breath, wondering what he would dare now that they were no longer under the direct view of their friends. But whatever she might have been hoping for - or sternly reminding herself she should _ not _be hoping for - it wasn’t that he would give her a gentle squeeze only to pull away with a brief smile and small wink before turning and walking away from her. But that is exactly what he did.

Felicity gaped after him, buzzing with confusion and arousal. He’d clearly been on a mission all night, and despite her determination to stay in control, his attempts to knock her off balance had been effective. So effective that she almost didn’t care that he’d been successful. She felt reckless and impatient, ready to urge her guests out the door so he could satisfy the restless need he had ignited.

She watched him from across the room as he joined Curtis, Quentin, and John by the champagne. He looked as unruffled and put-together as always, in that handsome, boyish, infuriating way that she had been working hard to ignore for the past year. Nothing about his easy movements and ready smile suggested that he had just recently nearly felt her up in a room full of their closest friends and family. But he had. And because she had let him, his charm was going to be a whole lot harder to ignore going forward.

But she could do it, because she was Felicity Smoak and she could do anything. Especially when it came to holding her own against Oliver Queen. If he could so easily walk away from the game he’d started, then she certainly could too. 

After all, she reminded herself, this is what she’d wanted: baby steps. Yes, they were past their issues. After more than a year, they were finally on the same page again. And yes, she wanted him. More than she had admitted even to herself, evidently. And yes, as delectable as he was, as much as she wanted to untuck his shirt from the waistband of his pants and run her hands down the bare skin of his chest, and then down, _ further _ , she knew that what she craved most of all was _ him. Them. _ With a desperation that was almost overwhelming, now that she had finally allowed herself to acknowledge it. 

But it was because she wanted it so badly that it was important they proceed cautiously. Which was the point of the Plan in the first place. It was a good Plan. She could stick to the Plan. 

Sensing eyes on her, she looked up to see Thea watching her, a speculative look on her face, but Felicity was most definitely not ready to have that conversation with Oliver’s sister, so instead she wandered over to the window to look out at the lights of the city. 

Anyway, it wasn’t like anything had happened. He’d teased her about her kitchen ineptitude, which was really completely tame. Teasing was just something that friends do. Normal friends, at least, which is what they were trying to be again. Rather than friends who can’t forget the fact that they used to be engaged and have all the sex.

And yes, he had put his hand on her, but it was just her back, and the cut of her dress really did make it almost natural that he’d ended up caressing her skin. Casual caressing. Friendly, taking things slow just like they said caressing. Only it hadn’t felt particularly slow or friendly.

Felicity snapped out of her musings when a glass of champagne floated into her field of vision. A glass of champagne held at the end of an arm that was curled around her body, cradling her in a ghostly embrace that just barely avoided touching her. Her eyes flew up to the reflection in the window, though she would have recognized Oliver’s forearm anywhere. And his smell, for that matter. Oh, god, that clean masculine scent that was literally surrounding her. 

She warily watched his reflection as he lowered his lips to her ear. “I got you a drink.” 

She took the flute from him wordlessly, waiting to see what he had planned. To her slight disappointment, his arm returned to his side, though he didn’t back away. She gazed at their image in the reflective glass, meeting his eyes and wondering if she was ready for whatever he had planned. As if in response to her silent question, he circled around to stand in front of her, lifting his own champagne toward her.

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, nearly choking at the intense look she found there. Gone was the soft, tentative smile from their earlier conversation, as well as the playfully provocative smirk that had lingered around his mouth for most of the evening since then. No, his barely upturned lips and hungry eyes could only spell _ intent. _ This was Green Arrow focus paired with Oliver Queen charm, a lethal combination that she hadn’t felt the full force of in over a year, and it hit her like a tidal wave, leaving her weak-kneed and breathless. 

He must have seen her falter, but his expression remained steady as he tipped his glass against hers in a toast. “To taking things one step at a time,” he quoted in a light tone that was completely belied by the heated look he was giving her. 

She honestly didn’t know whether he meant the words at face value, or if he was challenging her to stop him from continuing to flout their agreement to take things slowly, but she found herself really, really hoping it was the latter.

“Oliver,” she breathed, though it came out sounding almost like a plea. She waited for him to grab her, kiss her, _ have mercy on her, _ but instead he winked. He fracking winked. She released her held breath in surprise, but he only lifted his eyebrow at her and took a long drink, finishing the entire glass without breaking eye contact as she watched in fascination. It was insanely hot, triggering an instantaneous clench of need. 

He smirked when she still hadn’t moved by the time he lowered his glass. “Are you going to drink that?” 

His voice was low and she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from his lips, or stop thinking about her compulsion to pull him upstairs and let him taste the arousal that was practically dripping down her legs. 

With a small shake of her head, she gave herself a mental check, not wanting him to read her runaway thoughts. What did it say about her resolve that all it took was one look from him - one _ very hot _ look - to make her go from vowing to take things slow to practically jumping him? No. She was stronger than that. She would not fold so easily. She cocked her head and licked her lips deliberately. “Of course!” she exclaimed a little too loudly, but she got her voice under control as she raised her glass, continuing archly, “To hypothetically dating my ex-fiance.”

Her casual veneer was weak at best, and Oliver’s rapt gaze melted it right away as he watched her drink. The charged atmosphere seemed to give significance to their casual words, so that they echoed between them like a covenant. 

Before she finished lowering the glass from her lips, he wrapped his hand around hers, gently taking the drink from her. She raised her eyebrows, but instead of answering he simply lifted the flute to his own lips, maintaining eye contact as he drank.

“Hey!” she admonished weakly, but she was too captivated by his deliberate movements to do anything but watch helplessly as he swallowed the remainder of her champagne.

Depositing their now empty glasses on a nearby table, Oliver turned back to her and cupped her shoulders before sliding one hand to cradle her jaw. He fixed her with a searching look as his thumb stroked along her cheekbone, whispering solemnly, “I would like that very much.” 

The earnest look in his eyes nearly knocked Felicity off her feet. She knew immediately that he was presenting her with everything he had been shielding her from for all those months, the evidence that his feelings for her had never dimmed; and she wondered what it had cost him to keep them from her for so long. 

But she realized, with a choking heaviness that was too much, too soon, that she knew how much it had cost, because she had paid the same price every time she had looked at him, or not looked at him, over the past year. 

It was a lot. It was more than she was prepared to deal with so soon, especially here, now, at this party. She had to close her eyes against the way he was looking at her, and instinctively she lowered her chin in the hopes that he would rest his forehead against hers. 

When instead his hands fell away from her entirely, Felicity knew she’d managed to hurt him, even when that was the last thing she’d wanted to do. She lifted her eyes to find their empty champagne glasses in his hand and an easy smile on his lips before he tipped his head toward the kitchen in explanation and strode away. 

She watched him go with a wild surge of panic that had her setting off after him immediately. She’d seen the barely-there flash of disappointment, of hurt, in his eyes, and it was more than she could bear for even a second. That they were going to be okay was a given, but what she refused to let stand was his mistaken notion that she didn’t feel everything he felt just as acutely. That she didn’t need him exactly as much as he needed her.

Unfortunately, she only took three steps before she was waylaid by Curtis, who caught her arm to tell her he was leaving. She tried for a simple goodnight, her eyes straying to the well-fitted suit covering Oliver’s back and shoulders, but Curtis ended up side-tracking himself into a conversation about the taste-approximating capabilities of replicators in Star Trek and she just -

“Curtis!” she barked, because she just couldn’t listen to this right now. He widened his eyes in surprise.

“Can we talk about this later? I kinda have to -” she gestured with her eyes toward where Oliver was now walking around, collecting discarded dishes off tables, “go...host.”

“Host?” She could see the wheels turning the entirely wrong direction in Curtis’s brain, so she shut him down before he could delay her any further.

“Yeah, host, like it’s my house, my party? So goodnight, thanks for coming, sorry about the bodily injury, see you Monday?”

He studied her like she was speaking a secret code she wanted him to crack, so she went in for a quick hug, patting his back for finality, and turned away, eyes already searching for Oliver.

But Oliver wasn’t searching for her. Instead, he looked composed and okay, in discussion with Quentin, John, and Thea, and it suddenly occurred to Felicity that maybe, between the two of them, _ she _was the one who had overreacted to his toast. Maybe she had misunderstood the disappointment in his eyes before he walked away. After all, she had not been acting exactly rationally all night. She was running hot and hotter, and maybe what she really needed more than a heart to heart with Oliver was a cold shower.

Settling for a splash of cold water to the face, Felicity found herself staring at her reflection in the downstairs guest bathroom. She was blowing the whole thing out of proportion, surely. She and Oliver were okay. Better than okay. They were on the same page. Both very happy to be trying this again, one step at a time.

And thank Google for Curtis, which was not something she thought she’d ever say. Nothing against the guy, but more often than not his hapless meddling led to unfortunate complications, but today he had stopped her from making a huge mistake. Because she had been about to follow Oliver and tell him..._everything._ She’d been about to throw herself at him and confess all the wild, dangerous things that she’d fought to keep down for over a year. Things like admitting that she still craved him, yearned for him, lusted after him on a daily basis. That she still loved him, had never stopped loving him. Confessing what she only just started to suspect: that she was sure of _this,_ sure of _them;_ _so _sure that she was ready to pick up right where they left off because the feelings had never stopped for her, just like she knew - had always known - that they had never stopped for him.

Closing her eyes and shaking her head to rid herself of the dangerous thoughts, Felicity exited the bathroom and ran smack into a hard body.

A deliciously familiar hard body.

She yelped, and he reached out to steady her with large hands on her shoulders. “Felicity!” 

“Oliver, hi,” she blurted, surprised less by his sudden proximity than by how much she had missed it in the past ten minutes. It was dark in the hallway, tucked out of sight from the rest of the guests, but not so dark that she couldn’t see the parade of emotions that flickered over his face. “Imagine meeting you here,” she joked, attempting to cut the tension.

He smiled weakly in response. “Actually, I was looking for you,” he began hesitantly. “I just wanted to tell you….” He met Felicity’s eyes with a simplicity that went straight to her heart. “I needed to explain. Because I’m not trying to rush you, I’m really not. It’s just that ever since that night in the bunker, and then afterward, at ARGUS, something changed. Between us, I mean” he clarified, reaching out with a shaky hand to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear while his other hand landed tentatively on her hip. His touch was gentle and she leaned into it, craving more. 

“And actually, because of that, _ everything _ changed. For me,” he confessed hoarsely, his eyes flicking up to monitor her response. “And ever since then, it’s been harder and harder for me to act like everything is still like it was. Because you gave me hope that us being _ us _ again was no longer a question of _ if.” _ He raised his eyes to pin her with a look that stopped her heart. “It was a question of _ when. _And it was like a part of me came alive again, Felicity.”

She stood for a long, breathless moment, captivated by his gaze, until he dropped his forehead against hers and wrapped his arms around her waist. She stepped into the space between his legs and let him pull her closer, their bodies clicking into place as his words filled in the missing pieces of the puzzle she had been trying to solve all night.

He continued, the words spilling out like he couldn’t say them fast enough, “And then you asked me to dinner, but I didn’t know if you meant it like a _ date, _ but then tonight, with this party you threw for me, and god, I just needed you to know,” he leaned back enough to tuck his finger under her chin so that she could see the sincerity blazing in his eyes, _ “needed _ you to know that for me, the answer to the question of _ when _ is _ soon. _ As soon as you’re ready. All you have to do is say the word, and I’m there.” He cupped his face between her his hands, holding her close so there would be no room for doubt. “Because the truth is I’m already here, Felicity. I’ve _ been _here.” 

His voice cracked on the last word, and Felicity covered his hands with hers. “I’m here too, Oliver.” She lifted on her toes to press a kiss to his lips, needing him to understand. “I’m ready now.” 

Oliver accepted her kiss with a tender, cherishing look that was so open it was like looking directly at his heart, but his words held her gently apart. “Felicity, there’s no need to rush. That’s what I came back here to say, actually. I am more than happy to go at whatever pace you need, as long as -”

“The word, Oliver, you said to say the word and I’m saying it!” Oliver’s brow furrowed with confusion but Felicity pressed on, “I know I said I wanted to take things one step at a time, but I was wrong. I realized that, tonight.” Her eyes shifted between his, willing him to see that she was telling the truth, that she had no reason to lie to him; that she was done hiding things from him. “I’m already here too. I never left, either.”

Felicity watched with bated breath as Oliver blinked once, twice, before his face split into a beautiful, boyish grin that completely melted her heart. She had almost forgotten he could look so light, all teeth and dimples and flashing eyes. “Yeah?” he asked, if only for the joy of hearing her confirm it again.

“Yeah,” she obliged fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down so she could whisper against his lips, “really. So why don’t you kiss me because I can’t wait another minute, and then let’s go get rid of all the guests because your eyes have been writing checks all night, and I intend to cash them in.”

Oliver was gazing at her in wonder and amusement, and as his lips made contact, she felt them curl into a smile. _ Finally. _ He gathered her tightly in his arms as his mouth moved over hers, and Felicity surrendered completely to the feeling of rightness humming through her body. His hands were straying down the bare skin of her back, smoothing over her hips, fitting her closer between his legs, and she groaned loudly at the feeling of his hard cock pressed between their bodies. He slipped a hand under her dress and slid it slowly up the inside of her thigh, teasing her until she was gasping and squirming against him. 

“Oliver, god,” she moaned, hitching her leg over his hip, driven by an instinctive need to get him closer. Oliver assisted by lifting her up and pressing her against the wall, and how could she have forgotten how hot it was when he used his strength to pick her up, carry her, position her? She hiked her other leg up and Oliver grunted his approval, notching into the cradle between her legs and pressing her against the wall.

“Felicity,” Oliver sighed, dragging his mouth down to place open-mouthed kisses along her jaw. Felicity tipped her head back, giving him more access to her neck and prompting him to take both her hands and pin them above her head. She submitted to him completely, reveling in the effortless synergy of their bodies as he ground against her. 

“Ollie!” Thea’s voice, calling from the living room, struck them like cold water, causing them both to freeze. “Ollie, Quentin’s leaving; come say goodbye!”

Felicity’s eyes shot to Oliver and he nodded slightly, wordlessly pulling back and supporting her weight until her legs were back under her. 

“Oliver!” Thea’s voice was getting louder as she moved toward their hallway.

“Coming, Thea!” he called in a mildly impatient voice that could probably pass for your typical older brother brand of irritation, instead of the I-just-got-cockblocked-by-my-little-sister brand that it really was. He rolled his eyes and Felicity suppressed a giddy giggle.

He started to turn around, but Felicity stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Hold on,” she murmured, looking him over with critical eyes as she straightened his tie and smoothed his coat. 

The irritation immediately drained from his face as his eyes roved over her rumpled appearance. “Here,” he said softly, wiping a smudge of lipstick off her jaw and attempting to brush the wrinkles out of her dress. When he was done he stepped back, biting his lip and scrunching his nose.

“What?” she asked, fighting the urge to kiss the adorable look on his face. She lifted her hands to her head. “My hair?”

“Yeah,” he huffed, scratching his neck. “With all those complicated pins, it’s hopeless, I think. Not that I - I mean, it’s a really nice hairstyle, you looked,” his eyes flicked to hers with a look that was almost shy, which was utterly charming given what they had just been doing, “you _ look _beautiful.” 

Felicity stilled, held captive by the look of open adoration on his face, aware that her heart was beating out of her chest, and that the overwhelming burst of love she felt for this man was surely written all over her face. 

A giddy flutter of anticipation ran through her, making her lips curl up mischievously. “Don’t worry about it,” she whispered, raking her eyes down his body. “These hairpins are much easier to take out than they are to put in.” She lifted her eyebrow in challenge before spinning toward the main room. 

“Ollie, there you are,” Thea huffed as they returned to the party, but her impatience morphed into disbelief when her eyes landed on Felicity. Her gaze shifted to her brother, whose appearance no doubt confirmed her suspicions. “Quentin and John are leaving,” she continued in an entirely different tone of voice. “Aren’t you, Quentin and John?” She spoke to the men, but she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from the picture presented by Oliver and Felicity.

Thankfully, John seemed to already be on the same page. “Yep, we are, we’re leaving.” He put his hand out to Oliver, who had sidled up to stand next to Felicity. “Happy birthday, man.” 

Oliver shook his hand, unable to stop the grin that was pulling at the corners of his mouth. 

“Have a good night,” John continued, fighting a smile of his own. “I hope _ all _your birthday wishes come true.” John waved at Felicity, turning to leave, but Quentin’s voice stopped him.

“Now come on, John, what kinda goodbye is that? It’s his birthday, you’re just gonna run off like that?” Quentin opened his arms wide, inviting a hug. “Come on, Oliver. It’s been a hell of a year, but here we are. It’s your birthday, there’s no major catastrophe threatening the city...what’s the rush?” 

Oliver eyed Lance’s open arms dubiously, but eventually he leaned in for the hug, deciding it was the fastest way to get rid of the increasingly-unwelcome company. “Thanks, Quentin,” he murmured as the older man slapped his back.

“Well then,” Thea interjected, “I guess it’s time to be off.”

“What, you too?” Quentin grumbled. “You’re his sister, you’re really gonna break up this party so early? It’s only like, what,” he looked at his watch, “Nine-Fifteen! I mean I know it’s a Tuesday, but you kids are still young!”

Felicity felt Oliver’s pinky brush against her hand and she immediately hooked onto it with her own. Quentin was still talking, and when he didn’t show any signs of leaving, Oliver pulled her closer so that he could tangle their hands together and play with her fingers behind her back. 

“Well I might no longer be the mayor’s chief of staff, but Oliver still is the mayor, so….” Thea was saying, still locked into an argument with Quentin. 

Dig joined in, but their combined efforts weren’t seeming to have much of an effect. Felicity shook her head minutely, caught up in the ridiculous argument and somehow completely unable to come up with a single plausible reason to send everyone home. Except for the real reason, of course, which was that she had specific, explicit plans that required her and Oliver to be very naked. 

At that thought, her mind began to drift until a sudden metallic clatter caused all discussion to cease. Silence reigned as Felicity’s eyes swept around the room, meeting the curious glances of the others, who were also searching for the cause of the distinct sound. 

And then the same sound rang out into the stillness again, and everyone’s eyes immediately dropped to the apparent source. At Felicity’s feet, a hairpin was still rolling, while another sat unmoving on the floor. As they watched, a third crashed to the ground, causing them all to look back up at Felicity. And then to Oliver, who was supremely inattentive to the rest of them as he sifted through Felicity’s hair, releasing more and more loose strands with every pin he removed. 

Eventually he looked up, as if just noticing that everyone else were there. “Hmm? Oh.” He leaned over Felicity’s shoulder, placing a kiss on her temple before looking up to meet Quentin, Thea, and John’s eyes in turn. “Thank you all for coming. Have a good night.” And then he grabbed Felicity’s hand, and she barely had time to wave goodbye to her guests as he pulled her up the stairs.

They could show themselves out. Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak were done waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I feel like it's been so long since I've posted anything, even though I've started roughly a zillion new stories. This is the first one I have managed to finish in almost 2 months, and I'm hoping it will jump start something in me.
> 
> The ending of Arrow, and Felicity's exit, and the things that happened and/or are implied in 7x22 have really done a number on me, I have to say. I'm still 100% obsessed with Olicity (I don't see that ending), but my heart is still adjusting to all that other stuff. 
> 
> So anyway, I hope this is up to par! I'm really eager to write lately, but I've just had trouble maintaining my groove...or any sense of objectivity. So please, please let me know what you think of this! The feedback will help me find my way again 💚
> 
> (oh and come say hi to me on tumblr: allimariexf.tumblr.com )


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